For Fire and Ice
by shierak qiya
Summary: No longer a Snow but a Stark, Jon has been given the chance to live the life he always wished for as the Liege Lord of Winterfell. But with it comes strife, turmoil, danger and a crown he was never prepared for. Meanwhile there are tales of the stormborn Dragon Queens attempts to sail to Westeros. Will fire find allegiance with ice?
1. Chapter 1

I've had this idea in my head for quite a while and I've always loved the idea of Dany and Jon eventually ending up together but given the vast distance between the two characters I've struggled to think of a way to make it possible. I do now!

If you're looking for quick romance or even a quick story you won't find it here. It'll take a while for me to get Jon and Dany close to each other but until then I hope you enjoy the twists and turns and explore The North with me. If you like it I'll continue to write - R&R means I'll write faster (bit of motivation you know!)

This is a short chapter for set up, I'll update a new chapter very, very shortly to follow this one. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the journey.

**Robb**

"Are you sure about this?"

"This...this is the only thing that I am sure of"

The Northernmen bowed their heads in unison. There were five in total that night, gathered around a large table displaying battle plans and discarded goblets of wine. They had drank deep into the night and the air was heavy with strategy but thick with grief. Two nights had passed since the wind brought them a raven and with it the news that would rip their Liege Lord apart. He was too young to be fighting wars and losing brothers.

"Then it is done," the man who spoke first stepped forward and picked up his goblet of red before meeting the eyes of the one true King. Robb met his before fixing his gaze on each and everyone of his men. He saw the loyalty of The North blazing in all of them and he knew for certain that they would not betray him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought of his father. He knew that he was doing the right thing despite the anguish it would cause his mother.

Robb picked up his goblet before walking to the head of the table and let his eyes meet the unfurled stretch of parchment. His men had already signed their names below their Kings words. Robb let his fingers brush against the direwolf stamp, he was yet to get use to official acts like this but his men had assured him of the proper way.

"He will make a good King," Robb looked up to find Halys Hornwood staring at him with firm conviction.

_Aye, he will and it should be him, not I, standing here_.

"You will follow him?"

"To the ends of Westeros your Grace"

"Across The Narrow Sea," chimed in Jon Umber.

"Into the Red Waste!" grunted Cley Cerwyn.

"Into War,"

The Northermen turned to Ser Helman Tallhart, nodded and turned back to their King.

"Into War," they chorused, stamping the end of their swords against the ground and Robb raised his glass each man following suit.

"Then Let it be known that on this day I, King Robb Stark, Son of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in The North do by decree that my brother Jon Snow of the Nights Watch be hereby pardoned of his vows and stripped of the name Snow. From this day forth I name him Jon Stark, Son of Eddard Stark, future Lord of Winterfell and King in The North should I take no sons or die in battle. The houses of The North have sworn and pledged allegiance to him from this night and all night to come. For there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I swear this by The Old Gods and pray that they may watch over him for Winter is coming."

"Winter is coming"

And with that they drank and Robb signed his name before rolling up the parchment and sealing it with wax.

The grief of losing his brothers overwhelmed him and he hadn't seen his mother in days but this was something that he felt resolved in and with the blessing of the Noble and Masterly houses of The North he knew that he had made a wise decision.

_How will you feel brother when you get this letter?_

"Ser Tallhart"

"Yes your Grace?"

_Will you hate me?_

"I need this letter to reach The Wall safely, I can not entrust it with just a raven"

"My son will take it North your Grace, he will see to its safety"

_Will you ride to me?_

"He will take with him ten men, see to it that my brother returns to Winterfell and gives our brothers a proper burial"

"Yes your Grace"

Ser Tallhart took the letter, bowed and left the tent and with him the hopes of The North.

The other men took their leave in turns, offering assurances and words of loyalty.

_You are my blood._

Robb felt a brush of fur brush up against his bare hand, his fingers entangled themselves in Greywind as he drank once more from his goblet and let out a sigh filled with the anxiety he had held for two days passed.

"Winter is coming, Jon Stark...I need you."


	2. Chapter 2

Ah damn! Thanks for the positive feedback on my tiny chapter and for all the follows/favorites. You're awesome. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I wanted to introduce you to the men who will take the letter to Jon. It's going to be a lot of fun getting Jon to Dany, I wanted to make this as realistic as I possible could. The only thing that has changed is that Jon finds out he is heir to Winterfell. That's it. How much of a difference could one tiny little detail make? Quite a big one. I want to make this pretty darn epic so I hope you stick around for the longhall. As always R&R. Enjoy this new chapter.

* * *

**At the Gates**

It had been four days and three nights since Jon Snow had taken watch atop The Wall and four days and three nights since anyone had seen him move from the ridge.

Samwell Tarly had personally seen to it that the Steward had hot meals brought to him but all had returned frozen and uneaten. Sighing audibly Sam thrust his broom across the castle ground. The Wildlings hadn't returned since their attack on Castle Black but with only seventy two men manning The Wall they were still cleaning up the mess. "Do you think he's ever going to come down?" Sam asked his friend, Grenn, who was currently lifting flayed bits of wood off the ground. He seemed to think about it for a moment before turning to Sam with a stack of wood in his hands. "Well..." he huffed tossing the planks into an already growing pile of debris. "...Three weeks ago he watched his wildling lover die in his arms, two weeks ago a raven brought news that his two youngest brothers had died by the hands of a fish-"

"Kraken"

"-Fish" Grenn emphasised pointing a finger at Sam. "Then to top it all off four days ago ANOTHER Raven comes and says his last brother got stabbed through the gut by an old man on a bridge-"

"A Nobleman, who has...has a bridge Grenn"

Grenn snorted in a half laugh "what does it matter Sam, nobleman, countryman, peasants dun't matter still a shit fuck thing to do..." he spat on the ground in disgust "...so...no, I don't think he's coming down, in fact if I were him I would have thrown myself off the bloody ledge by now"

"GRENN!"

"What? Poor bastard wouldn't even feel it, that much speed on the fall you'd be half froze before you hit the ground anyway"

"But-"

"No "buts" Sam," he fished out two sharpened stones from his pockets "Jon has lost his entire family, all the Starks are dead and he's a man of the Nights Watch forbidden to leave his post or face penalty of death but he's got Starks blood...the bloody irony Sam, you'd laugh if only it weren't so tragic" Grenn struck the two stones together and watched as the sparks flew off them, setting the pile of wood on fire.

The two brothers silently watched the flames spread until it had consumed enough wood to start a flurry. They didn't speak for several heartbeats, each of them lost in thought and both of them wondered what they would do in Jon's situation. Sam thought he might be half tempted by what Grenn suggested but he was a coward and suicide was not the cowards way out – accidental death by fallen library books now that sounded like a death for Samwell Tarley.

"We should go to him," Sam voiced although he didn't take his eyes off the fire. Grenn spit into it and snorted "and say what? He's mournin', we're mournin' the whole bloody Kingdoms is mournin'...let him come to it in his own time and think of it this way if he dies we don't have to worry about him coming back as an Other because his bloody wolf'll eat him whole"

Sam barely had enough time to look at Grenn in horror before he threw up into the fire. The idea was enough to make him sick and since he had seen what Ghost was capable of he didn't want to imagine what his white fur would look like with Jon's Blood. Grenn clapped a hand on his friends back, patting the heavy furs before turning around and walking away. There was nothing more to say and the stench of bile wasn't something the young ranger could take on an empty stomach.

Sam stayed until the fires had burned to embers and the day had turned to night. The idea of Ghost eating Jon's flesh had made Sam's stomach lurch for most of the evening and he thought it best to sit by the warmth and think and so he thought. He thought of what he would say to Jon if he were to go up atop The Wall and stand with him. He thought of what comforting words he could say, maybe he would speak of his own brother or his own father. But no matter what words he came up with they all sounded empty and neurotic. Jon had lost everyone and Sam's family were all very much alive, even if they hated him. He could not relate to his brother in any way and that is what made him sick most of all.

"Sam"

At the sound of his name he quickly turned around and came face to face with Gilly. The sight of her made his throat close up and his breeches tight. This happened every time and he often cursed himself for his primal instinct but he was drawn to her in ways he was unable to control. She looked like she had just woken, her blonde hair in tangles curling around her face but her eyes were wide and alert, her body ridged and she screamed danger without actually screaming it.

"Gilly..." Sam began standing up, clumsily, his arm outstretched as if he meant to touch her.

"Men at the gates" she moved forward into his touch and as his fingers twisted around her hair he felt his heart twist in turn. She was full of innocence unaware of how he truly felt. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders, "Gilly...what men?"

"I don't know," she looked around in panic, "but they've been bangin' on the door for an hours past 'n no ones gone to em...they've been callin' for Jon"

"Jon..." Sam's eyes darted up towards the Wall were his brother stood. "I'll go to them" he said at once but as he walked towards the gates the twist in his stomach from his encounter of Gilly knotted and bunched – he had bad feeling about this.

* * *

"...Some bloody Night's Watch you lot are, it's Night and are you even watching?! ARE YOU EVEN WATCHING EH? If I got my arse out and rubbed it against your bloody gate would you WATCH then?"

"No one wants to see your spotty arse Benfred"

The man called Benfred turned around to glower at his insulter only to hear his party of ten men chuckling. They found this funny and that bewildered him. They had been travelling for a month solid to reach The Wall. Together they had fought off a pack of wolves, eaten what could only be described as warmed up shit from scum ridden pubs and had almost lost their lives to a tribe of mountain men near two days past and yet they stood laughing at him as he attempted to get them to their destination.

"And how would you know that I have a spotty ass, Snow, have you been looking at it when I piss?"

The try hard insult made Larence Snow smile a gaudy grin. Despite the constant gabs at his bastard expense he had greatly enjoyed this journey towards the Wall. Larence had spent most of his life in Deepwood Motte as a steward of his own father Haly's Hornwood and never in his life had he dreamt of travelling further than the northern wolfswood. Yet here he was inches from the Wall and he wasn't about to let a spoilt Tallhart Nobleman crack insults.

"No but I heard tales of horror from the whores you fucked on the way up here"

Further laughter spread throughout the men fuelling Benfred's anger before Laurence strode towards him and clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "We are mere yards away from the Wall...don't spoil it here" the men stared each other down, blue eyes to green ones, blonde hair to black hair, they were the spitting image of difference. Larence had a true Northerners look, short black hair with the brightest blue eyes, a strong jaw that looked capable of cutting meat and a bulky figure definitely capable of crushing men. Whereas Benfred was smaller, by several inches with medium length blonde hair and meek green eyes, his jaw was softer in fact his whole appearance was as such – soft and pudgy. It was hard to believe a boy whose face had never seen even a spit of hair growth, a boy who looked like just a simple boy was capable of such white hot rage. But he seemed to take his companions words seriously and gave a curt nod pushing past Larence and curling his hands into fists. Now was not the time to fight amongst themselves.

"Let's see here..." the bastard walked closer to the gate and sized it up before giving three loud, firm knocks onto the wood.

"Knocking of course, why didn't I try knocking?" Benfred rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

Larence was about to hit back with a retort before he heard a voice from beyond the gates.

"Hello, who-whose out there"

He had to suppress his grin at Benfreds slack, wide jaw.

"Laurence Snow, Steward of Haly's Hornwood of Deepwood Motte and with me ten men from King Robb Stark's army. We have come to speak with Jon Snow"

He heard the sound of the wooden peephole slide back and then he came eye to eye with a man of the watch. He motioned for Larence to move to the side so that he could take in the sight of the party. They were covered in dirt and grim from a long travel, a few of them had grazes and one sported a broken arm cast in a makeshift sling. When Larence saw the boys eyes on him he smiled, "Henry Moss, you should see the wolf he's in worse condition," Larence grinned at the boy with the broken arm who was no older than ten and four, he grinned back shoving his arm in the air only to quickly bring it back down in a myriad of pain.

The boy behind the gate turned his attention back to Larence. "Why do you want to speak with Jon?"

"We bring news from the King"

"The King's dead," came a new voice. The sound startled Larence because it didn't sound at all like a man.

"Whose that, is that a...girl?"

"Gilly!" The watchman exclaimed his eyes darting away from the peephole to shoo someone from inside the castle.

"Gilly, ah, so it is a girl, you have a woman in there? I thought that wasn't allowed" the bastard was intrigued and he tried to see inside from the peephole but he was shut out by the boy again who looked frantic. "It's not...she's...she's not a woman"

"I am so a woman," came the voice again she seemed closer as if she was challenging the boy.

"I know...I know that Gilly but-"

"But you don't see me as a woman"

"I do bu-"

"If I was not a woman then why do I have the-"

The boy behind the gate moved so fast away from the peephole that Larence barely had time to register what had happened. But he could see fairly well through the abandoned vantage point. The Night's Watch boy had pounced on this woman, his thick black cloak covering up her modesty. He was large, extra large and that surprised the bastard he wondered how he was so quick on his feet with all that extra weight.

"I see she is _all_ woman," Larence grinned.

The fat boy turned around, eyes blazing, it would appear that woman was spoken for. It amused the bastard, all this time he had heard that men of the Nights Watch had to swear off women but if he had known they were allowed to bed them he would have taken the black long ago instead of stewarding were he wasn't wanted.

He held his hands up in a sign of surrender "I'm not here to insult, I am just looking to speak with Jon Snow...what's your name?"

"S-S-" the boy cleared his throat and stood up taller still shielding the women and tried to add some conviction to his faulting voice. "I am Samwell Tarly, S-Steward of the Night's Watch"

"Samwell," the bastard smiled, "Samwell, we have travelled a long way, it has been a treacherous and tiresome rode and it appears that the news of the Kings death has reached you before we got the chance to but we still must speak with Jon Snow, we have urgent and important news that must be delivered...please Samwell Tarley, let us in"

For several moments no one moved, no one spoke but Sam never broke his gaze from Larence even if he knew he held fear there. The girl wrapped on his clock seemed to grab his attention and the bastard watched as they whispered to one and other. While they exchanged words back and forth Larence couldn't help but watch the young girls face, she was frighted but her doe eyes held nothing but admiration for the man whose clock she wore. He felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, he had lived ten and eight years and yet no woman had ever looked at him like that. How could a man sworn off girls have found love and he hadn't?

He had no more time to process the thought before he heard the click of the gate locks and the creek of old wood. Moments later the large gates were open and the small army of ten came face to face with Samwell Tarley, Steward of the Nights watch.

"You better follow me" he said before leading them into the folds of Castle Black.

* * *

Despite what this brothers may have believed Jon Snow had not spent his time on the Wall wallowing but rather dreaming – or what he thought was dreaming. In this unconscious state of mind were grief was obsolete Jon found himself in the mind of somebody else or rather something else.

_The woods were rich and dark and full of stories. The scent of man clung to the bark of trees and coated the air like a toxin. Men weren't suppose to tread this land, life beyond the Wall was not made for man yet man did not know it yet. The ground was slick with the mornings snowfall and the cold would bite through the skin of any man who dragged his scent through these woods. But Ghost was not a man. He padded silently along the forest floor, hidden from view despite the pure gleam of his white fur, he was looking for something to satisfy the intense cravings of hunger gurgling at the pit of his stomach. Jon could feel it, he could feel the earth move beneath his paws and he could smell his pray mere yards away from him. An elk as dark as the bark on the trees prodding the snow trying its best to reveal the grass. Ghost watched for several heartbeats, he anticipated its next move, which way it moved its hooves and the steady unsuspecting way it breathed without a hint of panic. The poor creature didn't get a chance to let any panic settle in before Ghost was silently upon it, his sharp fangs buried deep into its neck and the blood soaked his mouth covering once white fur a deep red. The animal was dead in moments and Ghost silently devoured the elk, Jon could taste it as if he had the meat in his own mouth and he felt glutinous. The feeling of the blood sliding down his throat with the flavoursome metallic twang felt primal. This is what he was suppose to do. Hunt. Kill. Eat._

_Some time later the wolf found his way back to the castle. The smell of men stronger than it was in the woods. There was a small crevasse he squeezed through to go hunting, no doubt the brothers would patch it up soon after they had dealt with the other more pressing impacts of the battle. Ghost paused outside of the hole in the wall, he could hear voices inside but voices he did not recognise, strange men and his masters men mingled together in tones of anger and defiance. He slipped through the crevasse and slunk into the shadows following the voices to the main courtyard of Castle Black. _

"_Shame you didn't show up four days ago you could have spoken to Lord Snow while you slung arrows in a wildings back, kill two birds with one stone as the saying goes," Ser Alliser Thorne grimaced at the unfamiliar men in front of him. His leg was in no better condition than it had been days before, two of his men stood unusual close to him as if afraid he would fall over if he took another step. Ghost heard the strange man opposite Alliser apologise, the stranger looked a lot like his master. Words were exchanged backwards and forth between the men but there was an intensity in the air that Ghost could taste, strong and heavy. It was only when they mentioned important business with Jon Snow twice over that the wolf looked up to the wall of ice were his master and brother sat._

* * *

"This is urgent business from the King in the North," Larence said once again to the small crowd of clocked men in front of him. There seemed to be a lot of hostility in the Castle and the appearance of battle hung around the enclosure like a bad smell.

"I hear there are many people claiming themselves King lad, but ain't no King cared about us as of yet. We have seventy two men standing here and half of them are injured and we're expected to keep you outsiders safe," the one they called Ser Alliser held a lot of anger in his voice and Larence could feel it bubbling to the surface like a lidded pot on the stove ready to burst.

"Ser, I understand but I must speak with Jon S-"

"Well why don't you go atop the Wall and get him then. We still have some climbing gear in good knick, got some wildling blood on 'em but that don't matter eh"

Larence sighed, exasperated. He knew these men were cold, some of them thieves, murders, rapists or worse but he had never expected them to be this unwelcoming. He could feel mourning in the camp, he could almost taste the defeat in the air as if the men had given up and why wouldn't they? As Alliser Throne just said most of their men were dead.

Larence was about to turn around to scale the wall himself until he heard a voice from call from the shadows.

"What's going on here?"

The bastard and the ten men, who had rode from the Riverlands to the Wall, turned around to face the very man they had travelled on this way to get – yet in that moment every one of them froze and the sudden magnitude of their message felt heavy on their tongues.

Jon Snow with his shaggy black hair and eyes so grey they were almost black stood before them in calm wonder. Laurence turned to the ten Northerners and Benfred gave him a curt, reassuring nod – this was it.

He walked forward and stopped far enough away to take in the sight of the Stark bastard. He saw him as strong, impassable but ultimately formidable – he had Stark eyes. Larence knew in that moment there would be no question, not hint of hesitate from him, the ten men or the Northerners. Jon was their king.

He knelt and extended out the letter, "I bring word from the King in the North, your brother, before he passed my father and four other men in his council were present as he made his decision on the future of the North...your Grace"

The huddle of black cloaks started a flurry of small whispers and in the front Samwell Tarley stood wide eyed, a boy of wit and smarts he knew what the letter contained and so that earlier anxiety proved right – this was very bad.

Jon took the letter from Larence, flickering emotions buzzed in his eyes as he ran his fingers over the wax direwolf seal and cracked it open. He read and re-read the letter until the words became nothing but a blur. In that moment as he rose his eyes from the parchment to the ten Northerners who now knelt, heads bowed, before him he knew that the game had changed forever.

* * *

So ends Chapter 2. I hope you enjoyed it. I will try and update every week if I can. I will also be looking at this from different characters points of view, so we will go across the sea and visit Dany at some stage to. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, sorry this has been a while. Believe it or not I've been writing this on public transport for the last two weeks because I've been so busy. This is a purposefully long chapter because of this.

I've been asked a lot of questions about my direction for the story and do I believe in certain "fan theories" well...it wouldn't be any fun if I told you! I just hope you enjoy the ride.

Thank you for your lovely reviews, follows and favourites - they really spur me on! You're awesome.

Also, on a side note, I use English spellings rather than American ie s instead of z that kind of thing.

Warning: There is quite a bit of violence in this chapter.

* * *

**Loyalty Lies**

**Jon**

It was an unfathomable thing - the power of the Weirwood. They were a rarity in the north now, many had been chopped down in war or rebellion with no regard for the Gods of Old. But they were there, peering through the white bark through the red sap, they lived and breathed in the roots that clung them to the earth created by a force much greater than man. Whether you believed in the Seven, The Drowned, The Red or The Old there wasn't a soul in Westeros who could deny the eerie feel that the Weirwood instilled on the mind when one was near it and Jon Snow could feel it now.

He had ridden North of the Wall to put some distance between himself and the whispering Brothers in Black. Jon had spent the last three days battling his emotions until his brain could think of nothing else but the Castle he was sworn to and the Castle he was born to. He had debated mostly with himself, for his Brothers took to whispering behind his back rather than confronting him about the pressing and potentially life changing decision in front of him. Some of them had begun to treat him differently when he entered the keep. Some would spit on the ground as he walked by and grumble obscenities as if he was even more of a traitorous bastard than when he walked with the Freefolk - those "some" were the people that believed he did that of his own freewill and not for the good of the Watch. The strangest lot were the men who would stand when he entered a room and shift into an awkward, small bow. Jon did not know the histories of many of the men in the Watch as they were told to shed them when taking the Black but it was difficult to forget a life. He could tell by the look of these men, both young and old that they were born to the North which partly helped them in their survival of the Wildling attack. These men bowed because they knew that out there in the hills, forests and cities of the North their brothers, fathers, uncles, sisters, mothers and lovers would bow to him. To their King.

King. The word felt foreign on his tongue. No bastard had ever been King and very few had rights to anything that belonged to their respective families. They were lone wolves, outsiders and generally seen unfit to carry the family sigil let alone the family name. "You are a Snow Jon because you were born a bastard in the North and you can never be a Stark because you have no lady mother," Maester Luwin had told him with pity at a young age when he asked why people referred to him as Snow. He had run out into the Godswood after that conversation and buried his shaggy head into the grass beneath the Weirwood tree. He spent the next three hours there talking to the eyes that never talked back but always looked like they were listening. Although no one answered he felt strangely comforted by the presence like he was speaking to a grandfather who had lived the world lifetimes over. As Jon stood beneath the Weirwood now, beyond the Wall, he thought back to those conversations and those secret training sessions he spent with the Gods. Jon was not a man of prayer and had never prayed once to any God but he did speak to them and that in itself brought comfort if nothing else.

Jon ran his fingers across the white bark of the tree, the light winters wind ruffled the red leaves upon its branches but they did not fall. The Weirwood was never bare whether Winter was coming or not. "My brothers dead," he told no one "my fathers dead, my youngest brothers are dead and my sisters...my sisters...they married one off and I've heard nothing of Arya" he spoke his young sisters name and felt his throat crack. Of all the Starks it was Arya that made him feel most at home, that made him feel like he was part of the family and that he was indeed a Stark, his free hand tightened into a fist "I have trained to fight all my life and I couldn't save them, I should have gone to my brother when he road South, I should have stayed at Winterfell to keep my brothers safe...I should have protected my sisters...I should have protected my father...I should have done more..." He bellowed, slamming his fist into the tree and his words echoed around the Gods Wood for moments after.

"Do not think of what you should have done Jon Snow, life is not a life worth living wallowing in should haves and could haves. The past is set in stone...the future is however she is moldable."

Jon turned away from the tree and met the preceding figure of Maester Aemon, astride a horse with Ser Alliser Thorne at the back his hands gripping the reigns. He looked as hard as stone and the anger set permanently in his face seemed to deepen at the sight of Jon. Never the less he got off his horse, helped the blind Maester down and walked him over to Jon who stood stunned in the shadow of the tree. He thought he would be alone out here, the castle was big enough that he could have been anywhere and he hadn't told a soul (not even Sam) that he was heading North of the Wall. As if reading his mind Aemon smiled up at Jon, "relax Jon, you are a Northern, like your father and grandfather before you and like them all Northerners seek wisdom from the Old Gods even if they do not believe..."

It was cold this far out, colder than in Castle Black. Jon couldn't help but wonder what the Maester was doing beyond the Wall - was it really just to speak to him? He had not seen him for three days passed nor Ser Alliser. It was as if they were avoiding him but they were certainly close enough now. Jon went to speak, he began to ask them what they were doing here but Aemon chimed in first. "This is only the third time in my life I have ever stepped into a Gods Wood...my...what power we have here..."

Jon did not speak.

Maester Aemon steadily approached the Weirwood and pressed his hand to the white bark. He traced his fingers over the long cracks in the wood, taking his time and doing it all with a small smile on his face. "Such strength...wisdom..." he stopped and turned his blank almost white eyes on the red of the Weirwood. "I was raised in the Light of the Seven by my father and he was raised in the Light by his and so on and so forth until man began," the Maester chuckled slightly and hovered his fingers over the trees red eyes. "Do you believe in Gods Jon?"

The bastard did not know how to answer that question. All his life he had believed in Gods, he had gone to them when he was young and needed guidance and he had run to them now when he was most in need of answers.

"My father took the Old Gods"

The Maester chuckled once more and shook his frail head "I remember those were some of the first words you ever spoke to me when you took the Black...your father took the Old Gods but do you?"

Jon was good at hiding his emotions, it was partly to do with his personality but mostly to do with being a Northerner. Yet, right now as he gazed upon the Weirwood he expelled anger and resentment throughout his whole body but especially in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists but unfurled as he felt a cold, thin hand touch his skin.

"The Gods did not kill your father Jon, they did not kill your brothers or Yigrette..."

Jon's heart jolted at the sound of her name and thundered heavily in his chest until he could feel it in his ears. He tried not to think about her but the more he tried not to the more he did. He imagined it would hurt like this for a long while, at least that's what Sam had said and he only knew because of the love scorned poets and bards.

"...People kill people because that's what people do. People are in charge of their own fate and their own choices - as are you"

Jon cast his eyes down to the Maester. Up close he could see the lines of age etched into is face, scared with worry, stress and grief and yet his eyes, although lost of all sight, were more alive than the body that carried them. Jon felt Aemon's fingers grip tightly on his skin, stronger than any man his age should be as he whispered "and what do you choose Jon Snow?"

He knew that this was not a question of Gods but rather the impending one that not a soul had spoken with him about. Suddenly his throat became dry and his thoughts rattled unhindered around his head. He did not know which answer was the right answer, what one the Maester was expecting.

"Do you remember who I am? Do you remember one of the first things I ever told you?" There was an urgency to him now and his grip was like iron, pulling Jon down to his level with every word. "Do you? Do you remember my name?"

Jon's body tensed. The situation had taken a sharp turn.

"Do you?"

"A-Aemon Targarya-"

"Aemon Targaryen, second of my name, third son of Maeker I Targaryen, Maester of the Citadel and could have been King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ah...I remember the titles as clear as if they were born to me. But the last...the last I chose...I could have been King but I let my brother take the crown which was a choice all of my own...my...own...the world is full of choices Jon and I urge you to make the right one."

Aemon had become frantic, the usually peaceful man spoke in rushed tones and his quiet grey eyes burned with fire hot enough to scorch Jon were he stood.

Before Jon could ask what the "right one" was he was he was pulled down forcefully, his face inches from Aemon's. "Four times I've been tested of my vows to the Nights Watch, you know the third but the fourth...the fourth is now and I can do nothing about it...I am an old man...I would be of no use to her...I couldn't...I want...I..."

Without any warning Jon felt a hand cuff around his furs and pull him out of the Maester's grasp and came eye to eye with Ser Alliser. "Enough of this," he growled, his breath smelt like stale ale and his eyes showed the tell tell signs of "self medication" presumably for his injuries rather than for medical reasons. "Do you know who I am Bastard?" Ser Alliser spat, his spittle landing on Jon's face. He placed a hand on the Maester's shoulder who was shivering and muttering about "help" and "the prophesy" under his breath, his eyes rattled around the Gods Woods without any real destination. "Do you Bastard? Do you know why I am on the Wall?" Snarled Alliser as he forcefully yanked Jon towards him, his loathing for Jon swamped his eyes but there was an acute slither of desperation in his glare. Jon gripped a hold of the knights hands, shoved them off and took a few steps back. He would not be threatened by anyone.

"No" he answered simply brushing off the spit from his face but he never took his eyes of Thorne. This had escalated from a chat about the Gods to anger and madness.

Ser Alliser barked a hard laugh as he took off his cloak and wrapped it over the Maester's shoulders, walking him back to the horse. He stroked her head and whispered a few words to her before slapping her on the ass and she galloped away towards Castle Black. It was only when the Maester was out of sight and the sound of hooves quieted to nothing but Winters Wind that Ser Alliser spoke again. "Did you spend all your time in the training yard bastard? Did you ever learn your houses?" He growled facing away from Jon. "I took the Black after the Usurpers rebellion, it was either defend the Wall or die, I chose the Wall because I wanted to be alive when that piece of shit excuse for a King was crushed under the weight of ruling a Kingdom...turns out he was crushed by his own weight...give or take" he snorted.

Depending on which side you were loyal to the fall of the Targaryen Dynasty came under two names – for the Targaryen loyalists it was the "War of the Usurper" for the rebels it was "Robert's Rebellion." In all of the time Jon had been at Castle Black he had never heard Ser Alliser talk about Kings. He had never mentioned Joffrey or Robert but out here away from the Wall and out of Westeros he could speak freely.

With a deep breath Thorne turned to face Jon with eyes of steel and a smirk twinging at his lips. "You might not know your houses Lord Bastard but I think it's time you had a history lesson."

* * *

**Alliser**

"How long do you think we will have to wait?"

"They can't be far off now but when they come...we will be ready"

Ser Alliser Thorne, sworn Captain of the City Watch of King's Landing sat side by side with his most loyal companion Emmett Darry of of the Riverlands. They sat with their backs up against the stone city walls, a pint of warm ale in each of their hands and, although neither of them would admit it, they had fear in their hearts. The War of the Usurper had been going on for some time now and there were whispers floating around King's Landing of switching loyalties. The King, Aerys II, had for years believed that everyone in the entire Seven Kingdoms was out to murder him, steal his crown and claim the Iron Throne for their own. He hadn't been the same since he had been held prisoner by the Lord of Duskendale – who had refused to pay his taxes – this had since forth been known as "The Defiance of Duskendale." There was a madness about him that made the King fearful and resentful but as far as Ser Alliser Thorne was concerned this was no reason to wage war against your King.

Ser Alliser was a loyal man, his family had fought for the Targaryen's ever since the Targaryen Uprising and they benefited greatly for it. They had good stock of land in the Crownlands which had been passed down from generation to generation. It was rumoured that a Thorne could swing a sword before they could talk but it was fact that almost all the male line were Knights. Alliser was no exception, he was raised an only child as his mother had died giving birth to him and his father had never found love again. "She was like Spring after a cold Winter, she was my Spring" his father had told him once and he had grown up to hold his mother in high regard with bitter guilt that she had died to give birth to him. From a young age he had vowed to himself that he would make his father and mother proud. He was the last Thorne, he would carry on the legacy but it was funny how life could twist what you wanted.

"Yeah we'll be ready, I'll stick my sword through their belly's but I pray to the Seven it's me that gets to look into that bastard Usurpers eyes when I stick a sword through his traitorous fuckin' heart," Emmett Darry growled taking a large swig from his ale glass. No one would have known it but before this war Emmett spent more time with a harp between his fingers than a sword, singing of love and beauty. Ser Alliser looked on at his companion as he talked of killing and didn't recognise the man he had known for three and twenty years. Two of his brother had been killed during this rebellion and ever since the only song he ever sung was of revenge. Alliser sighed, took a swig of his own ale and stared down at his reflection in the glass. This war had aged him near ten years and he was only five and twenty. He had the start of crows feat growing at the corner of his eyes and his long dark black hair had a few grey edges to it. He felt himself ageing and found it hard to believe that before this war he had offers from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms. After all what woman wouldn't want to be with a famed tourney knight and yet he wanted none of them.

He felt a rough hand touch his cheek and turn him so he could do nothing but look into the pale green eyes of his companion. "You're worried Alliser..."

"Aye..." Alliser started, clearing his throat and pushing his thoughts of fear to the back of his mind, "I'm worried what you'll do to me if I kill the bastard first," he laughed, giving Emmet's hand a small squeeze before shoving it off of him and pushing him away.

"Careful! It won't be half as bad as what I do to you if you make me spill my ale!"

"You should probably lay off it Emmett...you're starting to get a bit of a belly," grinned Alliser, slapping him hard on the stomach.

"Eh? You've never complained about my belly before!"

"Never had reason to before"

Both men sat, pints in one hand, grinning at each other. Despite the looming war going on outside of the city walls when it was just the two of them the war was the last thing that mattered.

"Captain!"

Both men snapped away from each other quickly and were on their feet to greet the arrival of Manly Stokeworth. He was a short man, older than his Captain but had twice the loyalty if it were possible. You could say many things about Manly Stokeworth-many women had-but you couldn't call him disloyal. "Lannisters...at the city gates"

"Lannisters?" questioned Emmett, placing his free hand on the hilt of his sword. "Haven't heard word of them since the Usurper started moving South"

Manly nodded but turned his eyes to his Capitan. "Aye, they're asking to come in, say they want to stand and fight with the King"

Emmett scoffed and spat hard on the ground. "Do they now? Well I believe that as much as I believe a Stark can smile"

Alliser's lips twitched up slightly, doing his best not to laugh before turning all of his attention on Manly. "Does the King know?"

"He's on his way to the gates now Captain with Maester Pycelle and Varys"

A snarl curled out of Alliser's lips, there were many men in Westeros that he hated but none so much as Maester Pycelle. There was something about the man that didn't sit right with him and, with all things considered, it should have been the foreigner Vary's he hated.

A firm hand landed on the back of his gold cloak. "Come Alliser, we should go to the gates" all humour from earlier was vacant from Emmett's eyes and the unspoken fear in both of their hearts bubbled to the surface.

The three Gold Cloaks made their way to the city gates and approached the King as he was chastising Vary's.

"I own him Vary's...Pycelle is right the lions know who their King is," everyone from King's Landing to the Wall could have heard Aery's bellow. For a man who had become so frail he certainty hadn't lost his bark. It wasn't just his madness that had grown over the years but he had hair longer than the Kingsroad and nails twice as long as that. He was garish to look at now and Alliser could see a few of his men found it hard to keep their eyes on the King. Aery's, however, seemed to be finding it hard to keep his eyes on anything. It had been a long time since he had stepped outside of the safety of the keep and he wasn't adjusting well to the sun.

"You have Jamie your Grace" came the husky old voice of Pycelle. Even the sound of him made Alliser's blood curl. "Jamie...he's your hostage...the Lannisters would n-"

"Your Grace, having Jamie won't keep them from sacking the city," Alliser strode forward, his hands by his side and his sword hidden behind his cloak. Over the last few years Aery's had become fearful of weapons in his presence and whenever he met with the King Ser Alliser respected his wishes. Emmett and Manly flanked him at both sides, their swords to were hidden.

"Ser Alliser," the King acknowledged and the Captain bowed.

"Vary's is right your Grace, letting the Lannister's in would be a mistake...Jamie is only one man"

"No...no...your Grace..." Pycelle hobbled up and clutched onto Alliser's arm causing the Captain to recoil and push him off. "Jamie...is everything. Tywin wouldn't harm you while you have his heir"

"He has a second son" countered Emmett.

Pycelle chuckled softly, "Tywin would never let that monstrosity have Casterly Rock...you see your Grace Tywin is here to help you not to kill you," the Maester rubbed at his soft white beard "he was your hand and he is your ally...listen to them now he must have four thousand men out there for you...just for you, your Grace"

"No, don't li-"

"Thorne, quiet or I'll strip you of your rank" barked the King as he held a decrepit hand up at this Captain of the City Watch.

Silence fell over the men as they stood watching their King wrestle with his thoughts. Alliser had more to say, he wanted to protect his King and unleash his sword through Pycelle's heart right in that instant. But the hand on his back from Emmett and the small shake of the head from Vary's told him otherwise, so instead he just clenched his fists, the metal of his gloves digging into his hands.

"Ser Alliser" he unfurled his hands at once at the voice of the King. "Open the gates."

"S-"

"OPEN THE GATES" he screamed in Alliser's face, spraying spittle all over him. "You are the Captain of the City Watch, sworn to obey my every command...you swore to be loyal to me. Open. The. Gates."

He could not hesitate, he did not stop all he could do was nod at his King and turn to the men in the towers.

"You heard your King...OPEN THE GATES"

There was no pause from his men, Ser Alliser Thorne's command was law. The King nodded at his captain before walking away with Pycelle and Vary's at his back. "Tell Tywin to meet me in the Throne room, we have much to discuss" that sneer and that command would be the last Alliser ever heard from King Aery's II and as he walked away part of Alliser knew it even then.

The gates opened and the sacking of King's Landing began.

Pycelle had said Tywin had come with four thousand men but it was twelve thousand. Men in armour, men on horses, men with swords and men with shields poured through the gates with one thing on their mind – to kill. King's Landing didn't stand a chance but it put up a good fight.

Alliser ran from the open courtyard and headed towards the top of the red walls. He commanded Manly to wake up every sleeping man and give him a sword. "And me...Captain" Emmett asked as they stood under the shadow of the wall. Alliser quickly entangled his fingers through the back of Emmett's sandy blonde hair, gripping his head tight. "Put a sword through Tywin Lannister's belly and maybe I'll let you kill the Usurper" Emmett grinned at his companions words and pressed his forehead against his. "If you kill him first...I'll lay off the ale" Emmett grinned and entangled his own fingers through the back of his Captain's hair. For a brief moment they stayed there and let the battle build up around them, wordless prayers of safety passed between them, before he ran off in the direction of the keep and Alliser unsheathed his sword and ran atop the red walls.

"Looks like someone let out the stray cats boys, time we trimmed back their claws" the Captain roared to his men, holding his sword high above his head. "We are men of the City Watch, sworn defenders of King's Landing and protectors of his Grace King Aerys II but if that's not enough for you, your mothers, your brothers, your fathers, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, lovers are all down there waiting for you to come home. And if that's not enough, well, there is ale down there that needs drinking and we aren't going to let a bunch of bastard cats get to the cream...what do you say boys?" Ser Alliser slammed his foot onto the wall and leered over to watch the traitors scramble into his domain. A small smile crept up onto his lips as he pointed down at the courtyard "Shall we kill some strays?"

His men's voices thundered over the shouts of the Lannister's army. They strung their bows and fired arrows, some drew their swords and ran down onto the field ready to fight. Even in the midst of madness and even though they were outnumbered five to one Alliser would never forget the sheer bravery of his men that day and marked it as the first and last true sign of loyalty.

Red became the colour of the day as blood spilled out of men and boys on both sides of the rebellion. Alliser lost count of how many he had killed but his cloak barely had a speck of gold on it any more. He found Manly driving his sword through a soldiers head and was drenched in blood much the same as him, his small stature was not a weakness it would have done many a man a service to remember that. "Have you seem Emmett?" Alliser asked, laying a hand on Manly's shoulder.

"I left him in the back courtyard, they cornered us from both sides...there are so many of them Captain"

"I know," Alliser growled riding his sword through an incoming solider was ease.

"Have we lost?" Manly asked softly and yet Ser Alliser knew that it was not a question, not really, but an admission and he had no comforting words to offer.

"If...by some act of miracle I perish here I want you to take charge of the City Watch"

He could tell by Manly's reaction that this was the last thing he ever expected to come out of his Captain's mouth. "Ser..."

"You're a good man Manly, stronger than most men twice your size and loyal, that is all that is needed from a Captain of the Watch, you have all of it and more"

"You honour me, greatly," Manly bowed, wiping the blood from his steel hand he held it out to meet the one of his Captain's. They shook firmly and exchanged a smile. "You have taught me some much Captain I ow-"

"Don't get sapping Stokeworth, it's not becoming" he slapped his friend on the back and exchanged one final glance with him before he headed off towards the back courtyard.

On the way he encountered three more men, the first two he killed but the third nearly took off his arm and for that Alliser took off his, leaving him there to bleed. He reached the courtyard in time to watch Emmett slice his sword through a man's neck which rolled almost artfully to the ground. Emmett's eyes met Alliser's over the courtyard. He was coated in blood, his light blonde stubble was crusted with dried in blood and his hair was just as bad but those pale green eyes shone bright with a sense of victory. His sharp and angular features twisted up into the widest set grin "How many did you kill?" he asked wiping his sword on the dressings of a fallen solider.

"I lost count," Alliser smirked and walked towards Emmett.

"Mm, you never were very good at numbers or reading or learning for that matter," Emmett laughed and swung his sword around a few times.

"A man's not a man unless he knows how to swing a sword"

"Yes, but it would do you good to learn your houses. I could tell you the house of every man I killed. The guy with no head was son of Lord Brax, Lannister loyalist, misplaced loyalty really. The Lannister's may be made of gold but they have shit of honour"

The men embraced over the corpses of foe and friend, pressing close to each other with their swords still clasped in their hands. "I thought you dead," Alliser whispered more to himself than to his companion.

"Ye of little faith," Emmett grinned and pulled away from his Captain but his smile softened as he traced his fingers down the curve of Alliser's jaw. "We have lost haven't we?"

"Out numbered five to one, but the men have fought bravely," Alliser answered thinking about the men he had left on the red wall and wondering how many of them had survived. There was no use in lying or pretending they both knew that this was the end.

"We'll take the black" Emmett smirked "you'll rise to Commander and I'll follow dutifully by your side. It can't be as cold as they say up there?"

"They say the Wall makes eunuch of many men," laughed Alliser.

"Don't worry Captain, I'll be there to keep you warm," a playful grin took over Emmett as he gripped a hold of Alliser's cloak. "Besides, we'd look good in black"

The men laughed until it echoed around the courtyard, in their own way they had found their own victory.

"The Targaryen's will rule again, if they kill the King there are still plenty who will rise up and claim the throne. One day you and I will be there to see that happen, to quote the words of my favourite house – Loyalty does not die."

Ser Alliser smirked and pressed his forehead against Emmett's. They were the words of House Thorne. "The Watch it is"

"The Watch it is" repeated Emmett and as he leaned into his Captain Alliser expected a warm embrace but instead he was shoved roughly to the side landing with a thud to the ground.

The next few moments Ser Alliser Thorne would play over in his head for the rest of his life.

The man that he had not killed but only left armless held a longsword in his only good hand with the full intent of ramming it into Alliser's back. But Emmett had seen the attacker coming and while pushing his Captain away he had taken the full brunt of the sword straight into his belly. Blood poured out of his mouth and splattered all over the man's face. That was the last thing he ever saw as Alliser rose to his feet and let out a ferocious scream as he ploughed the sword straight through the man's head with so much force that Alliser couldn't remove his sword and just let it and the man collapse to the ground.

"EMMETT," he roared skidding onto his knees in front of his companion who was covered now in fresh blood all of his own. Alliser made to remove the sword from his belly but Emmett placed a weak hand over his and shook his head. "N-Not y-y-yet" he spluttered, more blood dripping from his mouth as his pale eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"No, no, no, no, Emmett, come on, don't die on me now, we still have so much to do"

Emmett laughed, although it sounded more like choking. "I'm sorry," his voice was barely above a whisper "I...sho...should have drank more ale...m-my belly wasn't...big enough...to def-defend me"

It was just like Emmett to find humour in his death. He raised a shaking hand and placed it on his companions cheek which Alliser held, fiercely, savouring every second.

"T-Take...the...b-bla-black..."

"Shh, don't speak..." Alliser shook his head, he wanted every second he could have with Emmett and talking was killing him faster. He knew he could not promise him life and although every part of his body felt as if it was being ripped to shreds he also knew that there was no hope of life. "You...are..."

Emmett gave a small shake to the head and smiled a bloody smile "I know...yo-you are...to"

Nothing more needed to be said and with one final breath he mouthed the words "Loyalty does not die" before his hand became limp on Alliser's cheek and his pale eyes drained of life.

Ser Alliser stayed there for what felt like weeks, cradling his former companion to his chest and as each moment passed the life in his own eyes drained away the only problem was his heart kept beating.

Lord Tywin's soldiers found him hours later. He didn't remember much of what they said but he let them pull him away from Emmett's body. He heard that all the Targaryen's had been murdered, that he had a few others were the last men standing. He remembered catching sight of Manly and that brought him some small comfort – not all the good men had died. Tywin asked him if he would rather die or take the black and although his entire soul screamed for him to do the first he took the latter because he made a promise.

A few days later he was bundled up with fourteen other men into a cart and shipped up North towards the Wall. As the cart drove away from King's Landing all his hope slithered away and all that was left was loyalty to a house and to a man who no longer existed.

* * *

**Jon**

"And that is who I am bastard"

Jon had heard the story of the Sack of King's Landing at least fifteen times. He had heard it from his father three times, twice with his brothers and once on his own. He had heard it from men sitting at the long tables in Winterfell, drunk on ale and high on victory. He even heard Old Nan tell him about it once and her story was the most gruesome of all. But he had never heard it told from the side of a Targaryan Royalist

That Royalist was a shadow of the man he had described in the story. It was now that all the questions of Ser Alliser's personality began to be answered. Why he was so bitter, resentful and why he never smiled. Many times he chastised men for going down to Molestown and not once had anyone ever mentioned him with a woman although they never spoke of him with a man either.

As if guessing what he was thinking Ser Alliser said softly "I lost the Spring at King's Landing and it has never been Spring on the Wall"

Jon let the silence hang among them but he couldn't find the words to ask the question that hung on the end of his tongue – what did this have to do with him?

"House Targaryen isn't extinct," Alliser spoke bluntly and closed the space between him and Jon. "Aerys daughter still lives, across the narrow sea...with dragons..." Alliser smirked "she is the prophesy fulfilled, she is The Prince that was Promised"

Jon's eyes widened and his breath hitched in his throat. There had been talk of this "promised Prince" for years and yet it had never happened. Bran had told him about it after he had read a book of old Targaryen Kings. He had told him that the Prince was of dragon blood and that many times over the years King's had thought they might be the Prince and if not they did their best to produce one. Yet, no one ever fulfilled the prophesy and so it had remained a mystery.

"Daenerys?"

"Ah, yes, Daenerys...you do know something then bastard," barked Ser Alliser "Daenerys is The Prince that was Promised, she has dragons and she was born of salt and smoke. She is the coming of a new age and the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but she is stuck leagues away from here with no way of claiming her homeland. Her dragons are still young, word says, but she is building an army...yet she needs help"

"And how am I to help?" Jon was not slow, he had a sharp mind to go with his skills on the battlefield.

Ser Alliser's lips pulled up into a genuine grin, "smart boy...you are King now. King of mountains and rubble but still a King none the less...you rule the entire Northern quarter and have the loyalty of every Northernman but the North still belongs to the South," Ser Alliser walked towards the Weirwood tree and pressed his hand against the bark. "If you help Daenerys cross the narrow sea and become Queen she will give you the North and once again it will be a free realm broken from your Southern counterparts."

The words hit Jon like a slap across the face. Not only was Ser Alliser telling him to leave the Wall – which was shock enough in itself – but he was also presented with a way to avenge his brother, his father, his entire family by going to the sister of the man his father had dethroned.

It seemed impossible and yet a flurry of excitement rose into his chest, filling him with hope which, he hadn't realised till that moment, hope was something he had lost a long time ago.

"You can avenge your brother"

Ser Alliser spoke all the things that Jon was thinking.

"Avenge your father, get your sister Sansa back, forever claim the North in the name of the Starks and..." Ser Alliser walked towards Jon and faced him down "...you can claim more men for the Wall."

Jon's mind fluttered away from revenge and family as he remembered exactly were he was and exactly what he had seen. It had been joyous for the briefest of moments to forget. The White Walkers lay waiting for them beyond the trees, in the caves and far beyond the sight of man. They were the real enemy and yet everyone else was fighting over a throne.

"When the Targaryen Dynasty reigned the Wall was awash with men, we had the greatest defence but Robert would rather spend his money on hogs and whores than send good men up to the Wall. You can change that...go to Daenerys...bring her home, give her the crown, take the North, avenge your brothers and save the Watch," Ser Alliser clasped his hands on Jon's shoulders and for a moment didn't speak. He seemed to be lost in his own mind, "you have been given a chance I wish I had...take it, as much as I hate every single hair on your horrid bastard body I know you are our only hope."

Jon felt everything change in that moment. His decision seemed so clear, by leaving the Watch he wasn't abandoning it but giving it hope. He was The King in the North and it was his duty to protect it. He gave Ser Alliser a nod and said nothing more. He knew there was no love lost between them but felt a touch closer to the man he would have gladly stabbed in the back.

He got on top of his horse and asked Alliser if he was heading back. He shook his head, "I'm going to stay here for a bit, go back, make sure the Maester's okay and tell him your decision, then go Jon...Stark. Winter is coming."

Jon felt his lips twitch up into a smirk as he snapped the reigns and his horse galloped towards the castle. Before he could go any further he halted his horse and shouted for the Master at Arms.

"Loyalty does not die"

He didn't waste time waiting for Ser Alliser to respond as he sped off towards Castle Black resolved in the fact that this would not be the last time he stood beyond the Wall.

* * *

Woo! Big chapter out of the way. This was a bit if a history lesson, as you will, I know that a lot of you might have been expecting Alliser to kill Jon if he left the Watch but I did a bit of research on him and found out he had taken the Black after fighting for house Targaryen. So, I wrote his history and a little bit on The Sacking of King's Landing. You might be wondering – is Ser Alliser Thorne gay? I'll leave that up to your own imaginations.

There isn't much information about him or House Thorne so I enjoyed creating all of this new stuff - Including the words and family background.

I hope you enjoyed it. This was a lot of fun to write. As always reviews and follows are very much appreciated.


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